


Kaleidoscope

by tsukiakari



Series: Insomnia [1]
Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games), Nancy Drew – HER Interactive (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukiakari/pseuds/tsukiakari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade's been in jail for a month, and Clara finally visits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kaleidoscope

The first few days are surreal. He keeps waking up blankly, looking at the dim blurry grey of the ceiling and wondering why he doesn't see sunlight creeping over whitewashed plaster tiles, and every time the memories hit, he wants to go back to sleep and die. The endless hours of every day go clicking by like insane, sadistic clockwork. No matter what they make him do to pass the time, he spends every second thinking about the past.

After a week, the assurances that he'll "get used to it" are fulfilled, with a mental punch to the gut that keeps him in bed for a day, hungry and thirsty and completely sick. The others chuckle wryly, trading their proofs of his naivete, well within earshot.

No one comes to see him. He hadn't expected it, for the most part - of course they were all thoroughly shamed, again, by what he did - but through the haze of irrational hopelessness, he keeps waiting for her.

The next week goes by and worry starts to filter through the charcoal, keeping him awake. He looks at what little he can see of the night sky and thinks of her, out there on the outside, with his family nipping at her heels like vengeful, triumphant rabid dogs. It'd already been difficult to eat the food, but now it's close to impossible.

When the third week's gone and the idea of a month is sinking gradually into his consciousness, he gets word of someone waiting to see him. The dealing with the thought is possibly more difficult than anything he's faced before - the idea of her seeing him like this, for he's sure that it must be her. But he walks along the hallways anyway, under the buzz and flicker of the fluorescent lights.

By the time he reaches the glass wall and sees the person behind it, all he wants to do is run. All scraped-back dark hair and no makeup, like an ice sculpture of Charlotte, Clara sits there with hands folded in her lap and looks at him calmly.

Feeling a fool, he sits down and meets her gaze as squarely as he can. Anger's already driven off any tact he had left. "Where's Savannah?"

"Savannah?" Her lips curl, a patronizing copy of a smile. "Why, hon, aren't you glad to see someone in your own family?"

Something in him is amused at how little time it's taken him to lose his temper. "Family?" he shoots back, giving her the same smile. "Woman, I'd be truly shocked if you were related to us at all."

Her eyes flash with hurt, and for an instant she looks all the world like a trapped animal. "That so? Given all the times you've insulted us, it'd be more likely that you're the bastard. After all, look where you are." She smiles again, her voice settling into something even more impossibly cloying than self-satisfaction.

"Where is Savannah?" He goes back to it again, holding onto the small comfort of something with no connection to his bloodline. The light above him starts to blink, dizzyingly fast.

"I don't know." She shrugs. "I'm certainly not in charge of your love life. Just thought you'd appreciate a little update about what's been going on these days."

His own reflection in the glass stares back at him, as he tries to push past the confusion. She folds her arms and leans back in turn, a defocused figure on the borders of his vision.

She's here because of it all, that he knows for certain. Without her, none of it would have happened. She'd shown no sympathy, no pity, no common humanity through the worst of it, and she's certainly not prepared to do so now. The only reason for her being here is to pile more grief on him.

"You drove her out, didn't you?" He says it without a thought, turning his gaze back on her.

A moment passes and then she laughs, without mirth. "Drove her out? Oh, hon, the way you're headed, you'll be crying murder by the time I leave!" Before the words can sink in, she rests both arms on the table, leaning in so far that her breath frosts the glass. "Trust me, I've got infinitely better things to do than run around ruining your life. If that girl's gone, all the better for us."

He closes his eyes, just to keep out the image of her sitting across from him. Every inch of him yells to run and get away, but he knows just as well that there's nowhere to go, and the knowledge scalds him with as much cheerfulness as her words.

She starts speaking quietly now, and he keeps his eyes shut against her presence. "I must admit, though, I am surprised at you. I'd have thought you'd show a bit more concern for the few people you didn't blame through this whole debacle." She chuckles very softly. "On that topic, I have a message for you."

It would be just like her to save the truth for last.

His eyes flash open involuntarily, and she grins at him, a mere baring of her teeth. "No, hon, it's from Virginia - a different state, mind you. She says that she'll be here to see you within the week."

She rises in the breath between the hearing and the realization, her hands still folded primly before an impeccable business suit. "I'll be leaving now. I'd say it was nice to see you, of course, but..."

The echo hangs in the air as she turns and walks away. No bit of tension abates until her figure vanishes - into darkness, into mist, around a corner, he has no idea. There's no point in concentrating on the details.

As he walks back down the corridor, his mind is racing, as though to make up for all the time spent still. Savannah must be gone, for all that Clara's eyes all but exulted at him over the topic. He can imagine with painful clarity the way she'd have reacted. She had to have run away because of it, and there's no way to get her back, not until the year is over, and perhaps not even then.

By the time he's alone, the despair's thickened to a ridiculous level, something he would have laughed at if he'd been within reach of the sun and the ocean. Anything he thinks of makes it worse, and it's all he can do to be silent, even while his mind dredges up what could have been.

Savannah is gone, and his family has all but abandoned him. He's alone.

It's that moment, that thought, when he starts to doubt the point of living.


End file.
